The Darkling Tide
by Diabowserker
Summary: Toxin wants nothing more than to enjoy life to its fullest. He quickly discovers that he's not gonna get the chance unless he and his friends can defeat the fanatical Darkling Tide, who seek to free an ancient evil. It's up to Toxin to stop them, or die.
1. Prologue

**I figured you guys wouldn't want to listen to my attempts to explain the properties of green pikmin, so I'll just say that they're immune to explosions, and are mottled, sort of like camouflage. Enjoy this revised and improved version of the prologue.**

A pair of pikmin hurried through the night, in an inky black forest, past many tall trees. Both pikmin were covered from head to toe in a black paint made from coal dust and water, thus masking their true colors. They both continually through nervous glances over their shoulders. Finally, one of them said, in a low whisper, "Vodi Kiln will be rather angry with you, Taragamen."

The other pikmin, Taragamen, responded in a markedly different voice, a slow, steady voice, and a considerably enigmatic one at that, "Then he will be angry with me."

"Then you do not fear him?" said his companion in surprise.

"I will take what comes, Hinehm. I do not attempt to escape the inevitable, which is more than you can say," Taragamen responded in a low and deadly voice.

"It pleases me to hear you say so," announced a cold, clear voice from behind.

Taragamen and Hinehm fell to their knees and intoned, "Master Vodi Kiln. You have come."

Vodi Kiln was a green pikmin, heavily scarred and missing an eye, but still an obviously capable pikmin. Even if you didn't know of the many crimes and atrocities he had committed, you would know there was something bad about him, for Vodi Kiln exuded an aura of hatred and evil. He said, in a menacing voice, "Captain Hinehm, is it true that you failed in your attack on the Clawbel fortress of Tyberam?"

"Yes," said Hinehm, in a shaky voice.

"And did I inform you beforehand, Captain, that if you failed again, there would be the most dire consequences."

"Yes, my lord."

Vodi Kiln smiled cruelly, "Captain, look up."

Hinehm raised his head so as to look into Vodi Kiln's remaining eye, and Vodi Kiln lashed out, a knife flashed in his hand, and he cut the Captain's throat. "You are relieved of duty," he hissed. Vodi Kiln then turned to Taragamen and said, "General, you are aware of your considerable failure in securing the first keystone. Is that correct?"

"Yes, my lord," he answered in a whisper.

"This is the first mark against you. The keystone will undoubtedly be moved, and it may take some time to relocate it. To rectify your mistake, you will take over the project our former captain Hinehm failed. I want the walls of Tyberam to come down. We need the clawmin for this upcoming war. You have until the solstice, two months from now."

"I understand, my lord," murmured Taragamen.

"Do you, now?" said Vodi Kiln in an evil whisper. Then his knife flashed again, and a long, deep slash appeared across the general's chest. Even with with a pool of green chlorophyll forming around his knees, Taragamen showed no sign of pain. Vodi Kiln leaned forward and hissed, "Do not fail the Darkling Tide again, General, or the consequences may be… severe."

"It shall be as you say, my lord," said Taragamen, as the scarred figure of his master faded back into the shadows.


	2. Toxin

**Hello people! This is Diabowserker, and no, I'm not dead. I've been preparing to overhaul this story along with my first one. However, my old computer crashed and I still haven't transferred my fanfic files over to my new computer. In other words, everything I've written now no longer exists on Microsoft Word, so I've pretty much had to start from scratch. I'll let you all know when I've finished my overhaul. And, to clarify, every Pikmin story I write will have the same colors with the same attributes and appearances. I'm just too lazy to reintroduce each color. Now, enough author's notes and let the story continue.**

White pikmin Toxin stood in the wooden guard tower near the gate of the fortress-city Frelgato. A casual glance at the young recruit would present the image of alertness. He stared ahead at the surrounding forest. He carried a longbow in his hand and wore a quiver of arrows over his back. A war hammer hung at his side and a pike leaned against a wall, within easy reach of Toxin's hand. The metal in all these weapons was a composite called bromine, which, he had learned at the academy, was made from Chrysanthemum sap mixed with some type of rock, which was then melted and refined to make the dull green metal. _The academy,_ Toxin thought, _Would even be more exciting than guard duty. _For, contrary to appearances, he was not alert in the slightest, but actually bored out of his mind. Why did he have to get stuck with the boring jobs? Why couldn't he be on a hunting party, like his friend Streak? Or at least be patrolling the walls with Flannery. She usually found ways to turn the repetitive task of walking circles around the city enjoyable. Once, Toxin remembered, they had put ultra-bitter juice into the head guard's glass of nectar. He chuckled at the memory of the pompous fool's skin becoming completely inflexible. It had matched the man's personality. Of course, once he'd regained the power of movement, an hour long rant had ensued, culminating in his and Flannery's weeklong assignment to the janitorial squad. That, had not been cool. _Which brings me back to where I am now, _Toxin thought with a sigh. Who did they honestly expect to attack Frelgato? The criminal alliance of the Darkling Tide had been crushed years ago at the temple-city of Ooranghu. The various Clawmin tribes were bottled up behind Torin Pass, some 500 miles away. The Sporemin and the Puffstools that led them were content to fight each other over the barren mesas a few miles to the east. Still, Toxin had to concede, was not the worst duty you could be assigned. His friend Delve was on, "detached duty", which was basically a fancy way of saying he got to run errands for all the officers. Toxin had done this enough to know that it meant six hours of doing menial and degrading tasks. As if brought on by his thoughts, the bells that signaled the changing shifts rang out. Toxin smiled. Every shift was 6 hours, and all of his friends had this shift free. Pikmin didn't need sleep unless they had some kind of injury, so the free shift was very rarely used for its intended purpose. Toxin gathered up his weapons, waited for his replacement to show up, then climbed down, out of the tower, and on to the wall. He and his friends were only in their first year of service, which meant they hadn't been permanently assigned to a unit. That was good, since odds were none of them would be in the same unit. After you finished your first year, you were put in whichever group suited your skills the most, and Toxin and his friends had very different skills. Either way, he wasn't going to waste any time. He was going to get to the recruit barracks, meet up with his friends, and then get right down to business. _I wonder what we'll do today,_ he thought as he approached the ladder off the wall.

**Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'd say this chapter kicked the previous one's butt. Reviews make an author's world go 'round, just so you know.**


	3. Among Friends

Hola chicos y chicas! This is Diabowserker with a new, and hopefully longer, chapter. I make no excuses for my laziness.

Toxin dashed along the wall, unwilling to let any of his precious break time be wasted. He blew past a pair of sentries, narrowly avoided impaling the sergeant with his pike, and just as he reached the ladder that descended the outer wall into the military zone between it and Frelgato City, he crashed headlong into a red blur moving faster than him. They both went tumbling backwards, weapons and equipment clattering along the stone. "Moron!" his friend Flannery stood up, brushing herself off. "Watch where you're going _mola kiln_!" Flannery was well known for her sharp tongue, as well as for her knowledge of Old Organic. She had a lithe form, her skin a vibrant red, and at just short of ten years, her leaf was just beginning to bud. Some were intimidated by her quick tongue and menacing tones, but her eyes always danced with a merry light that could set others at ease. She was intensely intelligent, but despite three years friendship, Toxin still did not have the slightest idea what she had called him. Toxin stood and brushed himself off. "If you want me to take offense, O Knowledgeable One," he said as he began gathering his gear up, "You'll have to speak a language I can understand."

Flannery laughed, then let out a series of weird clicking sounds, followed by a stream of deep grunt-like sounds, and several other noises less easily described. "None of that ring a bell?" she asked.

Toxin laughed. "It sounds like you have a large amount of chloroplast caught in your throat."

Flannery hit him with the back end of her spear. "Someday I'm going to teach you how to speak a different language so that I don't have to deal with your stupidity!"

"Hey, my parents aren't diplomats or Dweevil breeders or farmers!"

Flannery chuckled. "I'm joking, stupid." The two friends proceeded down the ladder. Flannery reached the bottom first and started shaking the ladder. Toxin struggled to hold on as he shouted, "Weak, Flannery, weak!" Of course, he stopped shouting that once Flannery shook him loose and he hit the ground. Then he started saying something stronger. When his cursing subsided, Flannery helped Toxin to his feet. "Idiotic One," she said to him with a smile.

"Come again?"

"That's what I called you. Mola kiln, idiotic one. Of course," she said with a chuckle, "Frela kiln might be more appropriate."

"What's that mean?"

"Weak One." Flannery ducked away from Toxin's rather predictable blow with a smile and took off towards the new recruit bunker, halfway across the military zone. With a laugh, Toxin followed.

* * *

Delve only wished that he could find some amusement in the situation before him. He was a moron, an utter dunce, a thrice-damned fool. Why oh _why _had he put sedative cordial in the nectar cup? Sure, detached duty was boring as hell, but he should've known by now that his pranks did not always have the intended outcome. He'd been assigned by Walden, the stuffy green pikmin in charge of logistics, to brew a pitcher of nectar cooler, often referred to as nectool or just nectar. He was to take it to a meeting of some officers, and Delve had no doubt he'd been given this task because his father was a skilled brewer and he was known to be very good at it as well. Delve had fumed, angry that he'd been given detached duty when he'd done nothing wrong. Well, this time, he could remember thinking. He had continued fuming even as he mixed autumn and winter Honeywisp nectars together from the previous year, adding small dashes of Pellet Juice and mixing it all into a very fine drink. Then, just as he had been about to head off for the meeting, it had occurred to him how funny it would be to one-up his commanders. Most of them were obnoxious and arrogant, and he would very much enjoy getting back at someone for putting him to drudge work for no reason. He cursed to himself. He should've known better, but Delve was never very good at thinking things through. Adding the sedative cordial had been simple, as an emergency stash of cordials was kept in every military building in case of emergencies. After bringing the pitcher to the meeting room, Delve had discovered, much to his chagrin, that this was no meeting of minor officers but a meeting consisting of the First Captain, three Generals, and Lord Kirome, Ruler of Frelgato. He'd had no choice but to deliver the drugged drink and then run for his life. It hadn't worked and now he was facing Walden and the prospect of possible exile. Delve swallowed nervously as he waited for the mottled green pikmin to begin. Greens may be immune to explosions, but this one was insanely volatile. After what seemed a lifetime Walden stopped pacing and turned towards Delve, his expression grim. "You drugged the drinks of First Captain Remart, Generals Chathem, Dega, and Maiv, along with Lord Kirome." The statement was loaded, daring Delve to deny it. Delve would not fall for it. "Yes, sir," he said with no emotion. This was evidently the wrong move, because Walden surged forward and lifted Delve up by the scruff of his neck.

"Had I the authority to do so," he seethed, rage all too apparent on his face, "I would have you executed for your foolishness and irresponsibility. The use of sedative cordial is very carefully controlled. Getting the dosage wrong can result in permanently slowed reflexes and thinking." He paused and Delve gulped. "I still have half a mind to exile you," Walden went on with more control than before, "But I hear that there is a need for blue drudges on many of the trader barges that come up the Frelgato River. I will give you a choice. You can be confined to the dungeons until the next barge comes along, and then will send you with them as a drudge until the river freezes, and, assuming you survive, you can then resume your duties here. Or you can be exiled, here and now, with your weapons and a pack for supplies."

Walden set him down and Delve's head started swimming. Leave Frelgato? His whole life had been here. He had next to no knowledge about the lands beyond Frelgato Province. How could he just pick up and leave? On the other hand, his alternative wasn't much better. Those who served on the river barges rarely survived their first season. The barges were navigated through rapids, over waterfalls, through icebergs, not to mention the countless creatures living on the water, from Skitterlilies to Wollywogs, plus attack by bandits. Delve knew his limits well enough to know he would not survive his service. Hating himself, Delve spoke two words that would end everything he'd ever known, "Exile me." His voice was barely above a whisper, but Walden nodded and then spoke in a formal tone. "Delve the blue, son of Clayth and Ripple, you are hereby banished from Frelgato City, Frelgato Province and, all of its domains. You will be given your weapons, a pack, and one hour to gather whatever possessions you wish to take with you. These guards will then escort you to the edge of our territory. Your name will be circulated among the towns in the province. If you are found within our boundaries after you vacate, then you shall be tried and executed according to our laws." Walden gestured to the guards, who fell in behind Delve as he made for the exit. One hour later, he was on his way out of Frelgato Province.

* * *

"Where are they?" Toxin wondered aloud. He and Flannery had arrived at the bunker they shared with their friends Streak and Delve nearly an hour ago, and there was still no sign of either of them. "It's not like them to be late."

Flannery thought for a minute about the question before coming to a conclusion. "Well, Streak went out with the hunting party, so it's possible that they're on a trail and are missing they're break periods. It's happened to me before. As for Delve," she gave a helpless shrug, "your guess is as good as mine."

Toxin jumped to his feet. "I'm not waiting around any longer. I'll go ask Walden. He may be an enormous pain, but if anyone will know where Delve is, it's him. After all, he was on detached duty. You coming?"

Flannery smiled. "_Mola_. I wouldn't miss it for the world. Besides, I might have a chance dump ultra-bitter juice in his nectool again. That was quite a sight."

Toxin chuckled at the memory. "Come on Frema Kiln," he said, then jumped back out of range of the punch he anticipated. It didn't come. Flannery stared at him for one second, then burst out laughing. She laughed long and hard until her sides heaved, her stem shook and she gasped for air. Toxin looked at her, perplexed. "What's so funny?" he asked, sure he'd missed something obvious.

Flannery struggled for breath and managed, between chuckles to tell him, "_Frela _Kiln is Weak One. _Frema _Kiln means Pretty One." Then, at the sight of Toxin's expression she cracked up again. Toxin could feel his cheeks grow warm with chlorophyll, but he finally broke down and started laughing also. When they'd both subsided, Toxin managed to gasp, "That is a compliment you will never hear me give you again." Flannery hit him. Hard. Toxin raised his fist to retaliate, then dropped it. "I probably deserved that," he admitted, rubbing his arm.

"Definitely," said Flannery, "Let's go find Walden."

* * *

Streak swore softly. He'd just caught a glimpse of their quarry, and things could get messy. He slid back down the tree, twin stalks providing him with grip. He hit the forest floor softly, making very little sound. He turned towards Kalban, a red pikmin and the senior ranger on this hunting trip. "It's an antenna beetle, alright. The dangerous kind." A few startled hisses issued from the apprentice rangers and other unassigned members of the party. Kalban, however just nodded, then turned to a green apprentice. "Vell, there are two kinds of antenna beetle. Tell me what they are."

Vell cleared her throat nervously. "One type, variety, kind or whatever…" she stumbled over her words nervously and looked around, embarrassed. When Kalban urged her on, she said, "Yeah, anyway, um, that one can emit sounds that make any pikmin, well besides blacks obviously, but, anyway, the sounds they emit confuse pikmin's senses, make the ground spin, ears buzz, sense of direction collapse, and effectively put us out of action for as long as we can hear the sound." She paused for breath before continuing. "That's the more common kind and is not particularly dangerous, since we can just hang back out of its range and shoot arrows, but there's another kind, far more dangerous. It can direct its sound waves in much the same way the old texts tell us the Founders were able to. The effects of exposure also last longer and can cause permanent damage if pikmin are exposed to it for too long. The radius and range of the sound is also greater."

"Very good," said Kalban, "As this is the kind we're dealing with, I can think of only one acceptable plan. Streak, you're a black pikmin, and, although I hope all of you know what a black pikmin's unique ability is, I know full well that most pikmin join the army because they failed in the Academy. For that reason, I'll ask Streak to explain exactly why blacks are ideal for this kind of scenario."

Streak cleared his throat and said in a clear, concise voice, "Black pikmin can't have their brains influenced by outside forces. That could be anything from antenna beetle disorientation whistles to octave dweevil death sirens to Puffstool infection spores."

"Exactly," said Kalban. "For that reason, you, Streak, will take a direct approach, confronting the beast head on, and hopefully keeping its whistle focused on you. The rest of us will take cover in the trees and fire on it from there. Make no mistake," he added, addressing everyone in the party, "This creature could still get all of us. If our decoy doesn't work, we'll never be able to outrun it and it has a very long range. Hop to!" Everyone went to their positions in the trees as Streak walked to the edge of the clearing where the antenna beetle was grazing. He eased his katana from its sheath, the dull bromine glinting slightly. With the weapon's comfortable weight in his hand, Streak strode purposefully into the clearing. The beetle looked up, its vestigial shoulder wings started vibrating, and a dull whine filled Streak's ears, but he otherwise felt no effects. He kept walking, not altering his pace at all, and the beetle's eyes widened. The beetle took to the air just as a hail of arrows pierced the clearing. Unfortunately, the beetle had taken off a split second before the arrows had arrived and received only flesh wounds. Now it was angry. It came down on Streak faster than he'd thought possible, and he failed to bring his sword up in time. He was slammed into the ground with immense force, unable to bring his sword to bear. He looked into the pain-crazed eyes of the beast, saw its pincers snap towards his stems. He would watch until the end, although it wouldn't be long, he knew. But suddenly the beetle rolled off of him, a spear imbedded in its side. Streak saw, with incredulous eyes, Vell on one knee at the edge of the clearing, having just thrown the spear. Streak grabbed his sword and jumped to his feet, ready to assist Vell. The beetle moved faster, though, and its wings started vibrating. Vell let out a scream and tumbled to the side, making jerky attempts to move, like a puppet with half its strings cut. The beetle pounced, ready to sever her stem, but this time Streak was faster. He leaped forward, intercepting the beetle mid jump, one hand forcing the spear in deeper, the other bringing his sword down on the beasts head. The vibrations stopped and both the beetle and Streak rolled to a stop. Streak jumped up and ran over to Vell, who was still contorting on the ground. He was almost immediately joined by Kalban. "Blindfold her," he ordered.

"Nice of you to help out," said Streak peevishly.

"You might not realize it, but that whole fight took about five seconds. We got to the ground as fast as we could, but you'd already taken care of the beast. Bind her hands and plug her ears," Kalban ordered one of the unassigned. "Her sense can't be confused if she has no use of them. Hopefully we reacted fast enough to save her." With the bindings complete, Kalban lifted Vell over his shoulder. "Let's get going," he said.

**So what did you think? Let me know. Also, I'd like you guys to read the first overhauled chapter of Land of the Wraith King, the link to which is in my profile. Leave a review about it, even if it has to be anonymous. I'd like opinions about whether or not to continue my revision of that story. Thanks.**

**Sayonara,**

**Diabowserker**


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